The Only Magic I'm Missing Is You
by DulcetThoughts
Summary: When Quentin reveals that he hasn't actually presented as a secondary gender, Tick gives him a special Fillorian potion that will help reveal it. Only unbeknownst to them, Quentin was already in the process of presenting, and the elixir just slammed him into his first heat.
1. It’s Like a Fucking Curse

Even though Quentin was disappointed he wasn't the true high king, he wasn't actually surprised. He was twenty-two and still unpresented, and the role of high king was jam-packed with expectations of 'destiny' and 'power' that reeked of something reserved for an alpha.

An alpha like Eliot.

Eliot wasn't a traditional alpha, who were stereotypically all oblivious and obnoxious muscle-men shoving their strength around to get what they want. Yet, he still had that air of unquestionable authority people expected from alphas. Quentin had no doubt about what his secondary gender was when he saw him lounging outside of Breakbills that first day, elegantly draped across the wall like he owned the place. He moved with a certain majesty and aloofness that captured a room. Quentin had seen even the self-proclaimed toughest of rowdy first-years shrink back in Eliot's presence.

He already ruled the entire physical kids house, so of course he would be the one whose destiny was to command a kingdom.

Quentin had even less reason to be bitter when he accounted for the fact that even though ruling wasn't his 'destiny', that, because of Eliot, he still got to be a Fillorian king.

So why did something inside him still feel so hollow and unfulfilled?

Quentin was sitting in the throne room twirling an empty royal goblet in his hands, pretending to examine the intricate designs crafted into it as he actually contemplated his brain's latest rebellion against his happiness. He would've simply written off as another depressive patch, but it was… deeper then that. Ever since entering Brakebills, he'd been able to keep his mental condition in check to a degree where the most his anxieties plagued him was an occasional few days of feeling extra 'done' with the world. This felt like an emptiness at his core, craving something to fill it. Not simple numb sadness. He'd blame it on another throne curse if it wasn't for the fact that he now checked his seat with a few revealing spells every time before he sat down.

The quick steps of nervous approaching feet broke him out of his contemplation. Tick stood before him, wringing his hands.

"Your majesty?" His eyes landed on the cup in Quentin's hands. "Would you care for more wine?"

Quentin shook his head. "Um, no, thank you, I'm fine." It was a tempting offer, but unlike Eliot, he dealt with his issues with more self-pitying sulking, less drinking.

Tick's nervous hand-wringing increased. "Are you certain? There are some particular sensitive issues that must be discussed, and perhaps if your majesty had more wine, he would feel more comfortable talking about them-"

Quentin's brow furrowed. "If there's something you need to tell me, you can just say it."

He was a bit worried now. Glancing around the throne room, he was saw that it was still empty. Eliot and Margo were off being fitted with new outfits worthy of a high king and queen in anticipation of an arriving delegation, and Alice was no doubt off enjoying the spoils of a new large library to explore. It didn't seem right that he was being addressed regarding anything important without them. True, he was a king in his own right, but usually he was only consulted when someone wanted a third, or fourth, opinion on matters.

"It's regarding what I believe you call on earth your 'secondary gender'. You see, the Sunerian delegation arriving later this week has some very specific ideas about how alphas, betas, and omegas should dress." Tick's level of discomfort with the conversation seemed to be increasing as he spoke. "Right now, we're having a bit of trouble finding a suitable outfit for your majesty, as it seems we're not exactly certain what your secondary gender actually _is_."

Something on Quentin's face must've shifted without him realizing it, as Tick hurried to add, "Of course, we would never be so invasive to ask your majesty such a personal question if it wasn't essential. As you know, the Sunerian control the supply of oil for both lamps and cooking, and it's crucial that they think of us as equals so we can continue to trade with them, which is why we have to show respect to their customs. Also, there are also protocols regarding dynamic behavior in the Sunerian religion to be discussed-"

Quentin cut him off before he could continue. "Yeah, um, I get that. That it's important. But the thing is that I'm not really sure any of that applies to me?" Quentin shifted in his seat anxiously as the confusion on Tick's face intensified. "I, um, haven't actually presented… as anything." Quentin finished lamely.

A physical weight of nervousness seemed to lift off of Tick, even as his face lit up. "Truly? Is that all it is? We were worried that you had been cursed impotent by the purple popflies of the bandiland briar marsh or some other sort of mystical malady."

Quentin was startled, and maybe a tiny bit offended, by how relieved Tick was to hear that no, he hadn't been struck by colorful magic bugs or whatever other weirdness Fillory had to offer, his body had managed to fuck up his dynamic all on its own.

"Um, yeah, no flies, just me. So what does that mean? Am I exempt from the rules?"

"Unfortunately, no. Actually, without a dynamic, the Sunerians will likely see you as an abomination and an offense to their religious morals and either call for your execution or break off all relations with Fillory. But there is good news."

"_How_ is there good news?!"

"Because of the low constant opium content in Fillory's air, it's not uncommon for young Fillorians to have trouble presenting here. We long ago developed a potion that we use to treat anyone with an unrevealed dynamic who is past the normal age of presenting. It sometimes leads to an initial, say we say, exacerbation, of some gendered traits, but it fades within the first few weeks."

Quentin heart began racing. It couldn't be that easy. "So you're saying all I have to do is take this potion, and I'll immediately know what my secondary gender is?"

"Well, it takes a about a day to take effect. Since the delegation is arriving in less then three, the best option would be to give you the potion now and then brief you on the customs for all the dynamics, at least until we discover which applies to you. Or, -" Tick mouth scrunched back up into a stressed line for a moment. "If you'd prefer, you could always choose to leave Whitespire while the delegation is here. There's a chance that they'll still be offended and it'll affect the negotiations, but won't be enough for them to start a war with Fillory."

Quentin felt like his brain was about to short out. He had (sullenly) come to terms with his unfortunate dynamic situation long ago. When he woke up this morning, he hadn't expected to be offered the chance to have his world turned upside down. As much as he disliked, and was frequently embarrassed by, his lack of a secondary gender, it was all he knew. His had spent years programming his mind and body to navigate the biological inconvenience, and the prospect of having to relearn all of that was daunting. He certainly didn't want to experience that while facing a group of outsiders with whom his interactions in part the fate of the kingdom hinged on.

But then again. He knew if he took the easy way out and put off making the choice by fleeing into the woods for the next week, life would become much more difficult for his fellow royalty. He vividly remembers when he first arrived back in Fillory, popping into the throne room via Penny and catching Elliot unaware. He had been pouring over economic documents, one hand tangled in his dark curls while his crown rested on the table beside him. The typical shadows that lingered under his eyes had seemed a little deeper in the candlelight. In that moment, even though he had somehow managed to look no less majestic, he had appeared much less like a king and more like an ordinary stressed graduate student cramming for a big exam. He supposed that in some ways the situation was like a test, only the stakes were a bit higher then a pass/fall mark.

Elliot – and the rest of his friends – had been through enough lately without him adding to that stress. Besides, whether it was now or later, Quentin was certain that in the end he'd eventually chose to take the potion. He knew he wanted to have his dynamic, the only real question was how much more time and stress he was going to put himself, and in this case his friends, through before he let himself have it. It wasn't going to be easy, but goddammit, he had helped slay the Beast, and he was technically a king of Fillory now. He might as well make at least one decision where he acted like it.

"Okay. Okay, I'll take the potion. What do I need to do?"

Tick, who had resumed this anxious shuffling during Quentin's moment of hesitation, seemed to barely resist jumping up into the air in joy. "Excellent! There's nothing special you need to do right now, but if I could just take that for a moment-" He plucked the wine goblet from Quentin hand, and before Quentin even had time to react, was scurrying off. Headed to wherever they kept the secret magic gender potion, he supposed. The thought that this was going to happen right now, with so little prelude, almost got his anxieties sputtering to life again, but before they had time to fully start up, Tick appeared back in the chamber.

"Here you are, your majesty." He thrust the goblet at Quentin with two hands. It was now full of an opaque blue liquid with glittery trails of red and yellow swirling through it. He took it reluctantly from Tick's hands.

"Um, it certainly is colorful." Up close, the glitter was even more prominent. He thought it looked a bit like unicorn puke.

"That would be the sparkling snail slime." Tick added helpful.

"The wha- Actually no, please don't tell me." Quentin said, slightly horrified, but also weirdly comforted by Fillory being, well, Fillory.

And it was time to take advantage of Fillory's weirdness to solve one of his life-long issues. Even if it maybe meant the start of another. Resolutely trying not to think of how glittering slug slime could possibly be harvested, Quentin tipped the goblet up to his lips.

"Well, bottom's up."


	2. Imagine That

Quentin fell into the bed, exhausted. From the minute he had finished draining the cup of the potion – which had tasted of a bizarre combination of cotton candy and fresh-cut grass – Tick had launched into action. The remainder of his day had involved being swept from place to place to have articles of clothing of various styles and fits tested on him, all the while Tick continuing to list off various random and occasionally what seemed to be contradictory rules of etiquette for Sunerian alphas, omegas, and betas. Quentin had tried to pay attention, but whenever he wasn't focusing on whatever pose the irritated tailor attending him wanted him to strike, his mind was anxiously wandering back to thoughts of his dynamic. Every little twinge or creak he felt in his body sent his brain spinning, wondering if it was the first of the changes that would signal the emergence of his secondary gender.

He wasn't even sure what he was looking for. He didn't remember a lot of what his high school health class had tried to teach him about the sex and gender. Most of the class he had spent attempting to sneakily read bits of 'Fillory and Further' under his desk in order to distract himself from the graying teacher at the front the room speaking in a disaffected voice about who had a penis and where they should and shouldn't put it. Needless to say, he really didn't learn much of anything in that class.

When his friends all started to present throughout late high school and college, Quentin had finally started paying attention. But by that point, he had realized he had fallen pretty far behind everyone else on the gender development track and was too embarrassed to broach the topic with any of his friends. Not that he had many close friends aside from James and Julia, and there was no way he was going to discuss how it felt to have your genitals change with them. Now he was stuck in internet-less Fillory facing down the effects of a magical gender potion with no Google to help him frantically cram twenty-some odd years of missing gender knowledge into the space of a few hours.

He really didn't have time for it anyways. Whenever Tick caught him staring distractedly off into distance, he would begin to quiz him on etiquette, as if he was worried it would all slip out of his brain when he wasn't paying attention. To his credit, a lot of it did, but mostly because he just didn't have the energy or motivation to remember the sixteen different sets of table manners for alphas that shifted with the alignment of the sun. Besides, he didn't really think he was going to present as an alpha anyways. He never said as much, but Tick must have thought so as well, as he spent considerably less time talking about alpha etiquette then the other dynamics.

In some ways, Quentin was glad. Even though alphas easily commanded a certain amount of respect Quentin had always been a bit jealous of, he had never been envious of the expectations people placed on them. It seemed Sunerian culture was no different in this regard, as it put alphas at the head of most of their rituals. Alphas were the ones who lead toasts, moderated discussions, and apparently, in Suneria, got the final word on the amount of squash grown in a season.

Not that the other genders seemed to fair much better. He had been expecting some outdated ideas about omegas to be floating around in Fillory, but the number of archaic concepts and rules Tick had spouted off was shocking. Apparently, omegas in Suneria still weren't supposed to speak unless spoken too. His thoughts wandered to Penny, an omega who was openly vocal about any and every complaint he had about Quentin. It was definitely for the best that Penny wouldn't be here when the Sunerians arrived.

Quentin groaned, twisting around in his sheets, unable to get comfortable. As tired as he was from the long day, it seemed his body was unwilling to let him rest. He could still feel that lingering emptiness inside him that had originally driven him to moping in the throne room. He had hoped that if nothing else emerging as his dynamic would help settle that particular bit of anxiousness inside him, but so far there was no luck. Worse, what if he had already presented as something more subtle, like a beta, throughout the course of the day and nothing had changed? He wasn't sure it how he felt about the idea of finally receiving his dynamic like he had wanted for so long, only to find it as underwhelming as everything else in his life.

The idea of getting up and trying to find his friends crossed his mind for a moment, despite the late hour and his lack of knowledge about where their rooms were. He hadn't seen any of them all day, as he had been too busy being herded around by Tick. Even if he didn't discuss the intricacies of his gender problem with them, just being able to talk to any one of them to get his mind off the stress would be nice. Except, maybe not Alice. After defeating the Beast, they had realized they were just too different of people to make a good couple, and even though they had resolved to remain friends, they were still on slightly rocky terms. Margo had made an effort to a little more decent to him after the crowning ceremony, but they had still never been that close. Eliot, however…

The thought of Eliot made his stomach twist, and not in a bad way. The moment Eliot's name had crossed his mind something a bit like an electric shock had passed through his lower abdomen. He had always known the other man was objectively attractive, and the night they had gotten drunk while recovering from the emotion bottles, he had caught the Eliot looking at him more than once. Nothing had happened that night, mostly because Quentin was so firm in his belief that an alpha like Eliot would never want a genderless nothing like himself.

But the sudden thump of desire coursing through him at just the thought of Eliot made him consider it further. What it would be like to have Eliot slide up behind him at a party in the physical kids cottage and wrap his hands around his hips. The feeling of those long fingers pressed into his sides, and his warm breath against the back of his neck as he whispered a husky suggestion to find somewhere a little more private upstairs.

A shiver passed over Quentin, almost as if he could feel it happening in real time. He was starting to fatten up a bit under the covers, his dick rubbing pleasantly against the sheets. His mind wandered back to his fantasy with Eliot, now moved to the senior student's room upstairs. He imagined that as soon as they entered the room, Eliot would be so impatient he'd already have him pressed up against the door the moment it closed, kissing him. Quentin wondered if his lips were so soft as they looked, and what it would feel like to tangle his hands in Eliot's dark curls as they kissed. If his kisses would be hasty and hot, or slow and dirty, full of tongue. Unable to resist the growing fire of lust in him, he reached under the covers to take his cock in hand. The first touch felt better then it had any right too, and he just barely remembered to suppress his groan in the crowded castle. As he began to stroke, he thought about how much better it would feel if it was Eliot's hand on him instead of his own. How Eliot would lay him out on the bed before undressing him his and then taking him in hand, somehow knowing just how to touch. The way he'd looked in his eyes and smirk as if he knew what Quentin wanted before he even knew he wanted it. He could picture Eliot kissing him passionately down his chest, leaving little wet marks, before reaching his groin. The thought of Eliot confidently swallowing him down, eyes locked with his the entire time, had him quickening his strokes.

Quentin was flushed and panting now, his entire body felt hot and heavy with the fantasy. He knew he should feel more embarrassed about imagining one of his best friends in such a way, but he was too far gone now to feel anything but raging want. Still, it felt like something was missing, one more little motion that would tip him over the edge. In his mind, imaginary Eliot seemed to realize this too, and pulled off one of the hands that had been holding open his shaking thighs to lightly stroke his balls, before moving back to press against his hole. Quentin drew in a sharp breath at the thought and moved his own fingers to mimic the motion. One finger slid in easily, another following quickly, making wet sounds in the dark of his room. The thought of Eliot being the one thrusting his long, sinuous fingers inside, and then curling them up just so…

Just as Quentin was ready to burst, imaginary Eliot spoke for the first time.

"Are you going to come for me, little omega?"

Quentin did just that.

It took him a few moments to recover, but as he lay there processing what the fuck just happened, he took in his still-quaking thighs soaked with slick fluid and realized there could only be one explanation.

Well, shit.

He didn't have to wonder what his gender was anymore, it looked like he'd finally gotten his answer.

He was an omega.


End file.
